


Timeless Scars

by kaivynx



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, BAMF Hatake Kakashi, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Eventual Fluff, Gen, Graphic Self-Harm, Hatake Kakashi Needs Help, Hatake Kakashi Needs a Hug, Hatake Kakashi-centric, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Minato just wants to help, Obito and Rin have no idea what the hell is going on, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, Slow To Update, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Team Minato-centric, Time Travel, VERY eventual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:00:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24499084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaivynx/pseuds/kaivynx
Summary: Hatake Kakashi is back in the past. Team Minato is alive, but the ghosts of the past still haunt Kakashi at every moment.Kakashi is in inner-turmoil. Minato only wants to help him, but Kakashi is battling against himself and too scared to accept the offered hand.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Namikaze Minato, Hatake Kakashi & Namikaze Minato & Nohara Rin & Uchiha Obito, Namikaze Minato/Uzumaki Kushina
Comments: 58
Kudos: 359





	1. Chapter 1

Kakashi opens his eyes, taking in a familiar flaking ceiling, blinds shut tight, and a general oppressive atmosphere that slips Kakashi into a distant trance. This place is  _ old,  _ he should not  _ be here,  _ this can’t be  _ real. _

_ Why? Why am I here?  _ What god up there held such immense hate for Kakashi, that they cast him into a scarily accurate vision—or an alternate universe, though Kakashi  _ really  _ hoped that wasn’t the case—of his old apartment, the one he lived in when he was  _ eight? _

He denies it for all the world, because he can’t possibly be here, he is supposed to be dead. Kakashi refuses to believe that such a feat is probable, because he is  _ Kakashi,  _ not  _ Naruto,  _ and impossible  _ events _ should not occur to him.

Kakashi glances around with empty eyes in disdain and shock, comprehending how vivid this  _ hallucination  _ is. He hefts himself up on his hands—tiny, child hands—and arches his back. He swings his legs—short legs—around to the floor and stands shakily, almost slipping at the change of perception. Everything appears much larger as a kid, Kakashi shivers.

He stumbles to the bathroom in a haze, gripping the edge of the sink tight enough to ache. In the mirror, Kakashi sees his young face, absent of a scar, two black eyes peering back at him. But they aren’t filled with childish innocence—and even if his lifetime of memories hadn’t carried over he imagines the look would be identical. Old and weary, that is the look. Filled with an inescapable exhaustion that grows with every passing second, filled with the traumas that Kakashi has lived with since he found his father bled out and  _ dead  _ in the study, the finality of the man’s suicide rocking Kakashi off the stable platform and into an eternal abyss, always falling, always crying.

But there is something more, a look that has never become permanent. Maybe disbelief? Or a frustrated anger? Indeed, this peculiar situation has knocked him off balance, and he’s shocked. But angry? Angry to have another chance at life, to save his team and right every wrong?

He does not  _ want  _ another chance. Kakashi has spent all his damn life  _ grieving  _ over the deaths that were all his  _ fault,  _ has spent decades trying to rid himself of the  _ guilt  _ and climb back onto that stable platform but completely  _ failing.  _ Why should  _ he  _ have a chance, when he will fail again? Why should  _ he  _ stay to change every bad thing that occurred in his life? What  _ right  _ does he have to see an unmarred face in the mirror, with the knowledge of the terrible sins he committed and the mistakes he made ever-present in his mind?  _ Why him? _

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so hopeful for death. Perhaps he should be glad of this second chance, this chance to make things right, make everything  _ better.  _ But Kakashi can’t bring himself to think of the possibilities, be optimistic of the future. He just wants  _ out.  _ Out from this chance, this scene, this life. And he wants to never lay eyes upon his clean face again. That scar is a goddamned  _ reminder  _ of his faults. 

Kakashi lifts the kunai he had grabbed from beneath the pillow. Sharp, perfectly maintained because the child prodigy cannot have a dull blade. He stares at it reverently, tilting his head in wonder at what he can  _ do  _ with the lustrous weapon. He raises it up, not  _ thinking  _ and driven by his stupid  _ impulse,  _ and glares at the mirror with finality.

He slices his left eye, recreating what  _ should  _ be there, and what had no right to  _ disappear. _

Blood spurts across his vision. It splatters over his clothes and the porcelain sink and the too clean mirror. He winces at the bright flash of pain before it disappears, leaving in its wake a sudden urge to  _ strike,  _ to  _ move.  _ He throws his fist at the mirror, shattering and spilling shards, cracking his rationality, igniting the urge to draw out pain  _ again  _ because this feels  _ good,  _ this feels  _ right _ . The kunai lies abandoned when he picks up a jagged piece of mirror, reflecting his scrunched face.

The edges cut into his trembling palm, adding to the blood on his knuckles. Then he stabs at his eye—not  _ slashed  _ like before, but  _ direct _ —feeling no pain because of the adrenaline and then  _ rage  _ because the point of this was to feel  _ agony.  _ He can’t stop the manic grin forming on his face.  _ This is right. I deserve this. I’ll feel it all when the adrenaline goes away, definitely. _

A laugh bubbles up in his throat and he lets it out, the hysterical sounds rolling through the coppery-scented air. He poises the shard to strike again, but a firm hand encloses his wrist, holding the glass away from his face. The grip tightens and Kakashi reflexively releases the glass, hearing it break against the tiles.

“ _ No!”  _ he snarled, and his other hand tries to pull the grip loose. Kakashi struggles around it, thrashing his elbow and attempting to dislodge the hand.  _ Why now? I was so close.  _ “Damn you! Let me die! Please!  _ Please,”  _ his voice cut down in a whisper.

His hand is dropped. Kakashi takes advantage of the freedom and forms rapid signs, releasing his chakra in a massive burst. Fire erupts, uncontrolled and wild because of his rampant emotions. The flames strike the sink, the broken glass, his  _ hands _ .

Kakashi shrieks and trembles and splays his hands wide. They are encased in a burning red fire, luminous and blinding, a hellish nightmare. Kakashi can feel his nerve-ends tingling. The scorching pain spills tears. He wants to stop, the pain is too much. He wants to feel better again, feel  _ happy _ …  _ no. He has to. It is meant to be. Keep going. _

Cool water extinguishes the hateful flames in a gentle stream. Kakashi chokes out a vengeful cry, but he is drawn back into a calming embrace and his call ceases. He pushes out with his chakra to identify the person. The familiar signature strikes a warmth in him unlike the heat of his hands. It can’t be real, this whole _thing_ shouldn’t be real and the owner of the chakra signature should be _dead._ _Minato-sensei…_ He shudders and gasps, throwing up a hand to cover his gash only to quickly retract at the fierce burns, the shaking becoming erratic and blooming more pain with every twitch.

“Oh, Kakashi,” Minato sighs, something distraught coating his name.

“Sensei?” Kakashi asks and hovers a hand up near the blond’s face. Minato gazes down at him, cerulean eyes dark with grief. Kakashi feels shame wash over because  _ he  _ caused that grief, and that alone is a sign that he should be dead.  _ Why am I still alive? Why did you stop me?  _ And the momentary calm that Minato’s presence brought is shattered by another wave of self-hatred and worthlessness and the drive to inflict pain on himself. The wounds he had managed are  _ not enough,  _ he needs to do  _ more,  _ and then he needs to  _ die. _

“I’m here. I’m not leaving, and neither are you,” Minato says soothingly.

But Kakashi shakes his head rapidly, clouded by the myriad of emotions running a marathon—no, a  _ sprint _ —in him and the spikes of white slashing over his limited vision. He wants to scream in anguish, pain spasming as adrenaline escapes him. The urge to sleep and drift into nothing rises, but it’s not enough to overtake the need to hurt himself.

“I don’t want to be here,” Kakashi implores quietly. “Let me die. Please let me die.”

Minato’s face curls up, tears quickly filling the man’s eyes. Kakashi inhales sharply.  _ I’m doing this to him. He must feel so bad.  _ He berates himself for existing, for causing this mess.

“I refuse to. I’m going to help you, Kakashi. You’ll be fine soon,” Minato says reassuringly. 

_ “I’m sorry,”  _ Kakashi whispers, broken and hoarse. He closes his eye and wishes to wake up from this bittersweet misery—

_ Or never wake again. _

* * *

Kakashi comes to, plain white staring down on him. A rancid antiseptic smell attacks his nose, stomach queasy from the strength of it. His head feels large from bandages and his hands are too heavy to move.  _ Hospital,  _ his mind supplies.

A person’s scent wafts from the left, and Kakashi hones in on it, letting the smell of wind and forest lay a blanket over the antiseptic. Kakashi struggles to turn his gaze, grateful to Minato for not sitting on his blind side—though nothing less can be expected of an observant shinobi of Minato’s level. His sensei is resting in a chair, head down, eyes shut. His body is stiff, tense from staying in one position too long; and perhaps from worry, though Kakashi strays away from that line of thought.

Kakashi sighs and twists back to stare at the ceiling once more. He sensed Minato shift and raise his head.

“You’re awake!” the jounin exclaims, tone filled with honest cheer.

“And so are you,” Kakashi replies despondently. He can practically hear the frown appear. Why did he answer like that?! If he wants Minato to stop worrying he needs to stop giving him a reason to worry! Acting like a cloud is hanging over him is not the way to do that; or at least a cloud different from the one that regularly kept him company in the original timeline. The atmosphere turns sombre and Minato switches to a serious disposition.

“Why?” he says simply. One word and yet it covers so much, asks so much, and Kakashi isn’t sure he can come up with a reason for his actions that Minato will take at face value and answer everything he wants answered. The silence that follows is all too long as Kakashi thinks of a response, mind drifting to the scene of the previous night, reflecting on his actions, his impulse. Was that really him? He can’t recall ever acting in that manner before. But the circumstances… returning to the past, unwillingly, exhausted, mind crumbling under the weight of his feelings.

Kakashi breathes deeply to keep the tears at bay. Yes, he has a response, but it’s certainly not one Minato will accept. There is no other answer, however, and Kakashi admits defeat. Minato will have to take it whether he wants to or not.

“Because I deserve it,” he murmurs, shutting his eye and drowning in the void that appears in his chest, immense and painful and vast. Kakashi wants to flicker out of existence at the 

His cheek is enveloped by a warm hand, and Minato hovers above him, staring intensely. Kakashi can predict his next words, because Minato is a compassionate man, and after the death of Kakashi’s father, Sakumo, Minato won’t want Kakashi to think the same way; he doesn’t want Kakashi to repeat what happened last night, and he doesn’t want Kakashi to feel that way ever again.

_ “Never  _ say that.  _ Not once.  _ I forbid you from  _ even thinking of it, _ ” Minato says sternly, voice barely louder than a whisper, but the tone is desperate, the message is clear, and Kakashi feels guilt encompassing him. “You deserve all the world and more, Kakashi. Don’t think so little of yourself.”

Kakashi can’t help the tears that at last spill. His cries become heaving, hiccuping sobs that refuse to let him take in air. Minato sits on the bed and pulls Kakashi up to his chest, enveloping him and pressing his chin on top of Kakashi’s head.

Kakashi lets go, pushing his face into Minato’s chest as his sobs turn to raucous cries of despair and defeat. And now… now he can  _ finally  _ believe that his sensei is  _ alive,  _ and  _ he  _ is alive because Minato cares for him enough to save him, is the  _ only  _ person  _ left _ that cares for him. Kakashi sinks into his sorrow, wanting to die but wanting to live, waging a war inside his head because  _ Minato wants him alive,  _ and Kakashi can’t hurt Minato. This internal conflict is all because of  _ Minato,  _ and Kakashi can’t do him the disservice of losing to his mind’s wanton desire to die. He’ll win for Minato—he’ll  _ give it his all  _ for Minato.

“I’m sorry.  _ I’m sorry!”  _ Kakashi wails. His shoulders shake and his whole body shudders. He grabs Minato’s shirt with bandaged hands and holds on for  _ life _ . And Minato is there to embrace him through it all, comforting and warm and Kakashi can’t even  _ think  _ anymore _. _

What can he do? What can he say, when some former ghost is right here, right now,  _ alive _ ? Everyone is  _ dead.  _ He has dropped to the Kakashi that emerged after Minato and Kushina had died by the Kyuubi, alone and broken and unwilling to heal.  _ Shattered.  _ And now Minato is here and  _ breathing  _ and Kakashi can’t for the life of him wrap his head around it.  _ It’s too good to be true. It must be a dream.  _ But that mantra is slowly losing its hold because Kakashi  _ understands  _ that he’s back and this is no genjutsu created by an enemy. There  _ weren’t  _ any shinobi alive to cast a genjutsu on him, and that’s as much evidence as Kakashi needs to accept his new reality.

Every breath is agony in the face of his acceptance; this is a reality he _did not ask for._ _I can’t do this! It’s too much to bear._ Because he is not only alone but _it is his fault._ His weakness had _killed them all and it was his fault his fault his fault._ Kakashi shakes his head. _Why_ is he spiralling so much? _Why_ is he leaping from joy to sorrow to acceptance to panic? Why can’t he calm down? He is _here,_ so _stop worrying._

He grit his teeth in a futile attempt to lift some of the pain. Minato— _ always knowing what he needed _ —tightens his hold and whispers in a soothing tone. All nonsense but it gives him something to  _ focus on _ —far from the turmoil of emotions and confusion and questioning—and something  _ to ground himself to this new, scary world. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun is resting on the horizon by the time Kakashi emerges from the hospital, hands still heavily bandaged and heart firmly encased in ice. He isn’t sure of the day, though it must be sometime during the weekend, because crowds of people mill about, a night of activity just beginning. They cut sharp glances as he passes, and Kakashi is reminded once again of the time he resides in, the reputation that came before that of Kakashi of the Sharingan.

The sun is resting on the horizon by the time Kakashi emerges from the hospital, hands still heavily bandaged and heart firmly encased in ice. He isn’t sure of the day, though it must be sometime during the weekend, because crowds of people mill about, a night of activity just beginning. They cut sharp glances as he passes, and Kakashi is reminded once again of the time he resides in, the reputation that came before that of Kakashi of the Sharingan.

Konoha before the Kyuubi attack—Walking among its streets, seeing the houses and shops and districts that had originally perished beneath the Bijuu’s paws—is weird and disorienting. Kakashi feels stranded and alone in a nightmare or an illusion, the same kind of lost he felt during his arrival, and his awakening in the hospital. If not for the glares of hate and resent that follow his path and dig under his unsteady feet, Kakashi would have labelled this a dream. Why does he keep drifting back into that mindset? Surely he’s past it by now? Surely he is no longer lost? Maybe without purpose or direction, but not  _ lost?  _ Those glares are knocking him off balance because he recognises them and remembers them. He isn’t Kakashi, to the villagers. He is the son of the Hatake Disgrace. 

_ I _ — _ I’m not him. I’m… Kakashi,  _ he runs the mantra over and over even as the stares delve deeper into his chest and make it impossible to breathe. Hatake Kakashi, the prodigious eight-year old. Already chunin. Blood on his young hands. Scars on his undeveloped mind. As painful as it is to think, that’s who he is in this current time, much more so than the son of the Hatake Disgrace. He’d take the former titles over the latter any day.

But, despite who he may be  _ now,  _ in  _ this  _ timeline, he is also Hatake Kakashi, the  _ failure _ . The horrible teacher that allowed his students to be thrust apart from each other and suffer cruel deaths alone. The jonin that had fallen short of saving his teammates every damn time. The emotionless and cold bastard hiding behind a mask of indifference. That’s who he  _ is _ , unbeknownst to anyone else, and he will remember that for as long as he lives.

Every block closer to his home brought more stares and jeering comments. Fruit splatters beside his feet, followed by piercing screams and insults. A kunai whistles past his face, striking the wood of a dango stall. Kakashi halts for a second, contemplating the weapon, still vibrating from the force of the throw. He takes one glance at the chunin who threw it, their hand raised and a violent promise painting their face. It’s personal, though Kakashi isn’t aware of any bad blood between his father and other shinobi before the fatal mission.

Kakashi shakes his head and moves on, crossing the last street to his apartment building. He thought he had passed this; being sensitive to everyone around him, letting their taunts affect him. Did Naruto feel like this too? No, of course he did. Though for different reasons, their treatment by villagers and shinobi alike were similar.

The jeers affect him, yes. Physical threats affect him. But they are nothing compared to the blood on his hands, always there, reminding him. Gloved or not, the crimson sticks to his skin and itches like hell, bringing with it the image of Rin at the forefront, and now, of the team he failed to keep together. Dried flakes crumble at his scratches, floating to the floor of his apartment’s doorway.

Kakashi slides the door open to silence. He enters an empty, cold apartment. The unwelcoming atmosphere is a second wave of pain after the hate he endured on his way here. It’s inhabitable, oppressive. Kakashi shivers at the breeze blowing in through the open window. When had he left that open?

He teeters on the doormat, hesitant to enter. The smell of copper etches its way through his mask, rising from his hands. He chokes, throat tight and dry. Kakashi clenches his fists, forces himself to relax. He has smelt blood before, many times. This isn’t something to be scared of. A hand on his shoulder halts his entry.

“Sensei!” he startles, whirling around to face an apologetic Minato, who had his hands raised in a placating gesture.

“Sorry, sorry,” Minato said sheepishly. Before Kakashi’s eye, the image of Minato morphs into something smaller, younger, a blindingly bright smile and whiskers stretched on cheeks. Kakashi twists his gaze away, looking at the opposite wall.

“Now pack your things,” Minato orders, tone changing abruptly, leaving no room for argument. “You have twenty minutes.”

Kakashi stares blankly for a moment, comprehending the command. “What?” he manages, brain finally catching up.  _ Pack your things? A mission? _

“You’re moving in with me. No buts’,” Minato clarifies as Kakashi attempts to protest. “I don’t think I need to explain my reasons to you, do I?”

Kakashi shakes his head hurriedly. He doesn’t. Anyone would agree with Minato. Kakashi can’t be trusted to be alone in his apartment. He turns to walk inside and hesitates. Kakashi doesn’t deserve Minato’s love.

Fingers snap in front of him, recalling his attention.

“We’ll have none of that, Kakashi,” his sensei reprimands. “I  _ want  _ to do this. So  _ please. For me?” _

Kakashi concedes.

There’s no saying no to the Yellow Flash, after all.

* * *

Stage one is peaceful, minor disruptions scattered here and there. Sometimes, the sensation of falling, harmless but no less terrifying.

Stage two is not as peaceful. More or less, this stage is a slow decline into death, a subconscious feeling of going cold and still, but not bad enough to bring him back before stage one. It’s a natural decline.

Stage three is the deep end, when death arrives at last and refuses to release its grip. But death is not there to take him completely. As soon as it arrives, it takes its leave..

And then there is the last stage... the fall into hell, nothing like that occasional fall in stage one. It’s a metaphorical fall. This hell is made of haunting memories. Of himself. Of everything he fears; the lack of control, the constant attacks of mind on mind, resurfacing images he thought to be buried for eternity.

It is different from his other haunts. There is no definite source, just a fog clashing every sense and every side. But how can his senses work in this state? Shouldn’t they be confined, inactive?

Kakashi lets out a shudder, dropping his bag on the bed. He doesn’t want to unpack just yet, not until he can push his rising anxiety aside. In the midst of his trembling, Minato stops by, poking his head inside the door. Kakashi ignores his arrival, crossing his arms and tensing, trying to chase the shuddering away.

“It’s late, you should go to sleep,” Minato comments. “Training is cancelled until you’re cleared by the doctor. Though we could still go to the field and let nature do some healing?”

Kakashi dips his head in acknowledgement. He discards the bag in the closet and stares at the bed. It glares back deceivingly, promising warmth and comfort. A perfect guise for a homeground of pain, and one that Kakashi won’t be falling for anytime soon.

Kakashi makes no move to get in.  _ I should stay up instead. Meditate or something.  _ Meditation will get him by until he finds another solution, even if it’ll send him into such an exhausted state that he’ll be a hazard to his team— _ always  _ a hazard,  _ always  _ a danger—on missions.

_ “Kakashi,”  _ Minato implores. Kakashi tilts his head, fighting the temptation to obey his sensei and drop into the inviting nest of sleep. He keeps his feet still and frozen to the spot.

“Hey, hey,” Minato whispers, and Kakashi flinches at their close proximity. He can feel Minato’s hand stopped in the air, prepared to touch, to comfort. “Can’t sleep?”

Kakashi lets Minato take his silence as an answer. If he speaks out loud, would he be able to stop the desperate, quaking words from leaking out, no filter, no fears left out? But Minato doesn’t accept his silence, waiting instead for Kakashi to verbalise his reasons.

He staggers away from Minato, rewarded with a twinge of pain from still tender burns. Kakashi faces his sensei from a safe distance, urging him to understand his feelings, convey as much as he can with a single, unmoving stare. It’s not enough, never enough, and as Minato opens his mouth, no doubt to prompt an answer, Kakashi releases his silence.

“I’m  _ scared,”  _ his voice cracks embarrassingly, wrought with emotions that Kakashi has never spoken out loud before. Minato pulls him by the elbow, sits beside him on the bed. Kakashi quivers with the urge to run, anxiety once again sending his heart racing and spine flinching from chills.

“What of?” Minato presses. Kakashi blinks away the moisture rising in his eyes.  _ How can I possibly put this into words? How can I tell Minato-sensei everything when it must be kept secret?  _ “Kakashi, please.”

“ _ Everything,”  _ he tries, and it’s true… a half-truth that Minato can interpret for himself. Kakashi begs internally for Minato to stop pressing for answers, stop pushing Kakashi closer to the edge. “Everyone. Them.  _ Me _ — _ ”  _ A sharp inhale.

“ _ I don’t know what I’m scared of.” _

The walls close in, wrapping Kakashi in an unbreachable cocoon, a place that’s  _ supposed  _ to be peaceful, but only brings Kakashi insecurity, vulnerability. The room slides in and out of view, rising up and down with his heavy breaths. He focuses on Minato’s face, worried creases scrunching his face. His one constant—

Both then and now.

Both dead and alive.

The only constant, in the form of wraith or sensei, a figure to follow, to believe in.

Anything is better than the faces that follow him night and day, haunting his every step, turning raucous at Kakashi’s mistakes and throwing him back into the pit of doubt and hatred. With Minato, it’s quieter, not completely gone, but not loud enough to creep into the forefront of his mind for weeks on end.

But the guilt remains. No matter the volume of his ghosts, Kakashi remembers the guilt, fully occupying his being. Always thinking,  _ is this real; why me? Why me, when I’ve only ever spilled blood and harvested the souls of innocent and guilty alike? _

It’s a cycle of despair that refuses to split, a never ending world of pain since his father’s suicide. A precious person dies, and when the grief seems to run out, another grave is dug. Kakashi is launched from loss to loss to loss to...

_ I... _

“I don’t want anyone else to die.”

Minato sighs. “Come sleep with me then. I promise I’ll wake you up,” he adds as Kakashi fails to hide his distress. Kakashi gives in with a nod.

Minato does indeed wake him from his nightmares. Kakashi cries in his arms, mind tearing apart at Minato alive right beside him when he had just seen him die, a chidori to the chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the responses to the survey I linked in the first chapter!  
> Don't expect such quick updates anytime soon, I have 5 assignments I need to do by next week TT_TT  
> Comments are always appreciated, even if it's a single word! They fuel my writing spirit!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lightning crackles, and his world turns white.

Despite Minato’s nagging and desperate pleas to get Kakashi to rest the next morning, Kakashi thinks he’s ready to get back into training. He needs to get his strength back, as soon as possible, so he can prevent the deaths of his team. But… to prevent their deaths requires interaction, and Kakashi isn’t sure if he can face them, or speak to them, and he definitely can’t fight beside them.

Kakashi sees them enough in his dreams, calling out his name, screaming insults that Kakashi deserves. It’s a penance to have Obito and Rin speak so harshly to him, hate and blood dripping from their lips. It’s a penance, too, to have his head and hands wrapped in bandages, wounds inflicted by his own hand. And it will be a penance to be thrust back into training and give every ounce of effort into it to grow strong enough to save his team, and leave no time for his wounds to heal; the wounds  _ can’t  _ heal, not after everything he’s done, not when he inflicted them as a  _ reminder. _

Regardless, the wounds are hardly life-threatening, he’s dealt with worse, though Minato is taking every chance to disagree.

“No training,” Minato groans, his worry hidden behind a veil of exasperation. “I’ve already notified Obito and Rin that training is cancelled for the next two days.”

Kakashi swallows his breakfast hastily. “Two days? I’m ready now! At least tomorrow, Sensei,” he pleads.

Minato shakes his head, “If I had my way I would cancel training for the next  _ week.  _ But I know you’re stubborn, and decided to compromise.”

Kakashi grunts, leaning back in his chair. It isn’t a matter of wounds or not. He  _ needs  _ to train, he  _ needs  _ to punch something, release his chakra,  _ anything,  _ before the walls close in too much and his sanity is shattered even more than it already is.

“Please, Sensei,” Kakashi begs, voice hoarse. Minato seems ready to give in, guilt playing about his eyes. Kakashi glares at his hands, resting on the table, practically useless.  _ Come one, come on, let me train… _

“I’ve already made my decision, Kakashi,” Minato says, and his heart sinks. “I told you yesterday, didn’t I? No training. I know you will refuse to rest, so after breakfast, we can go out to the field, clear our minds.”

It’s not nearly enough.  _ Fresh air will do nothing to “clear my mind.”  _ And the field, the training ground. Who will he see there? Even before they reach the field, who will he see, walking with excitement, a skip in their step, always eager to meet with their teammates? Kakashi keeps those thoughts tightly locked up; Minato doesn’t need to hear them. His sensei might pull him off active duty completely.

“Fine,” Kakashi sighs. He pushes his plate towards Minato, a few morsels left, just enough to satisfy Minato. “Can we go now?” They meet each other in a staring contest, Kakashi’s stubborn, stony eye fighting against Minato’s cerulean worry.

Minato cedes, and gives five minutes for Kakashi to get ready, stacking the plates and disappearing into the kitchen. Kakashi feels the satisfaction of victory flow through his blood. Now would be a good time to have something to punch.

Kakashi rushes into the bathroom, taking a look in the mirror. A dead eye looks back at him, scarily dark, but fiery and determined. The best he’s felt since he returned, far better than the terror of last night, or the hopelessness and defeat of his arrival. The bandages around his head bring forth the image of a kunai in a tiny, unmarred hand, striking down, spewing blood. Glass shatters, a cacophony of clinks and clatters. More blood, more pain, and the sounds of glass continue, despite the quiet that should be there. The crackling of fire, an intense, sharp agony crawling up his arms.

He’s in the present again, brought back by the pain in his hands, an overlap of memory and reality. His fists are clenched, stinging and pulling against the bandages. Heart racing, Kakashi stumbles back out of the bathroom.

“Are you ready?” Minato shouts from the apartment’s front door.  _ Yes, please, I need to get out of here. _

Kakashi sprints to the door, finding Minato with his sandals pulled on, hand resting on the door knob. He tries to hide how shaken he is, playing off his heavy panting as the rush from his bathroom and exhaustion of the last two days. Minato’s eyes narrow, but he says nothing, instead crouching down to help Kakashi with his sandals.

Outside, the sun is barely above the horizon, floating in a sea of pink and orange, pushing against the endless deep blue of the west, moon still hanging in the sky, stars twinkling out of sight. Kakashi shivers at the cool air, mist curling around him. The cold replaces the heat of the pressing walls of the apartment, which Kakashi gladly embraces.

Minato leads the way through the main streets of Konoha. The only people out are the ones opening their shops and setting up their stalls. Shinobi traverse the rooftops or crawl the same path as Minato and Kakashi, exhausted from their completed missions, on their way to hand in reports to the Mission Desk.

He is safe to walk at this time, safer still, with Minato beside him, standing at Kakashi’s shoulder protectively. There is no one to harass him, to chuck insults or fruit. His anxiety is lessened by the peaceful morning, perpetually fatigued by his nightmares and hallucinations, but pushing through, Will of Fire burning brightly.

As they reach the bridge, and pass close to the training grounds, Kakashi feels a pull. A pink-haired girl shakes her fist at him, and Kakashi can clearly hear her shouting``you're _ late!  _ as he arrives, hands in his pockets, shoulders slouching. The fire wavers, hampered by the sudden breeze and blond hair and atrocious jumpsuit.

“Kakashi?” Minato asks softly. Kakashi doesn’t answer. His feet refuse to move, frozen by the sight on the training field.  _ I failed them. Oh, God.  _ Kakashi sucks in a breath, holds back the whimper. Minato’s tentative whispers are pushed to the back of his mind. He can’t hear them over the two children calling for his attention.

_ Sasuke-kun!  _ Kakashi whips his head to the Uchiha sitting in the shade of a tree, sharpening his kunai.  _ Oi, Teme, Kaka-sensei’s here!  _ the blond one shouts. Kakashi trembles. They’ve never spoken names before. They have never been this  _ real. _

Minato rubs at his back, “Are you alright, Kakashi? Please answer me, it’s okay, I’m here.”  _ You’re not here. My students are,  _ Kakashi thinks, giving in to the incessant pull of his students.

_ Kaka-sensei! Guess what guess what! _

“What?” Kakashi asks. Minato’s hand drops from his back. Kakashi hurries onto the grass, drawing ever closer to his students.  _ Tell me about your day. How about we do a D-Rank? _

The images curl up in smoke, leaving behind only smouldering embers and a hissing as the flame shrinks. Kakashi halts, three wooden posts rising in front of him. They shift from wood to rock, names poorly engraved, no hill of dirt, no slab of concrete or marble. Just rocks with names. Kakashi keens, hands clawing and grabbing at the clean side of his face, begging his students to come back. He pulls his hands back, inspecting the wreck of bandages.

Wood thuds, pain erupting with the sound, resonating through his chest.

“Kakashi!”

The next thud comes from his knees, legs haphazardly folded beneath him. Kakashi punches at the ground, cries escaping unhindered, an explosion of grief he never let himself properly feel. It was always shoved aside, along with everything else. Get revenge.

How ironic, Kakashi spits. Especially after Sasuke…

He heaves, the breakfast he’d had not an hour ago coming back up with bile, spilling onto the grass. Kakashi’s body constricts with each heave. The hissing continues, fire drowned by air and earth.

Minato’s hand returns to his back, rubbing in warm circles. Kakashi hugs his hands close, whimpering at the pain from the punches. Darkness crowds into his vision as he struggles to breathe.

“Come on, Kakashi. In and out,” Minato says, and his tone is hard; a commander’s voice, in the hope that the law-abiding shinobi Minato believes Kakashi to be will respond. It works somewhat. There’s no emotional connection, nothing to set him off. But the pain is still sharp and loud, the hissing drowning out the voice of his sensei. The images of his students continue to flash in his mind.

The heaving dies down, leaving Kakashi trembling and weak.

“Can you walk?” Minato asks, and the tone is the real Minato, always worried for his genin. Kakashi shakes his head, throat too sore to let him reply. Minato lifts Kakashi up, strong hands beneath his arms, and lifts him into a gentle hold. He is carried to the edge of the field, in the tree’s shade where the sun has yet to shine. Kakashi feels sleep creep close.

Minato brushes hair out of his face. “Get some rest,” his sensei urges. Kakashi fails to nod in response, merely letting his head rest in Minato’s lap. Darkness soon overcomes him.

* * *

Kakashi reaches out a hand—unbandaged, clean—to the girl in front of him. Rin looks different from how he usually sees her. There’s no blood dripping from her lips. Her eyes are gentle, not wide with shock and pain and betrayal. She reaches out, hand mirroring Kakashi’s. She’s never done this before, Kakashi thinks. He knows how this should turn out, half-expecting lightning to coat his arm, blood covering his hand like a glove. But nothing happens.

Their hands shake from the effort to reach each other. Rin mouths his name, eyes going misty with desperation. Is this how it should be? Kakashi trying to save her? No stormy sky, no lightning, no rain, no blood. In that moment, Kakashi swears to never use the chidori again, to never let the name Friend-Killer Kakashi be made a reality in this timeline.

“Kakashi?” Rin calls out, her hand almost touching his.

“What is it?” Kakashi asks, weary but determined.

Rin looks left and right, shinobi popping into existence around them. Kakashi shifts his feet, defensive, hand still frozen in space.

“I’m scared.” Kakashi turns his head up, blanching at the tint of crimson at Rin’s lips. “What’s happening to me?” The blood becomes a steady trickle. Her hand falls. Kakashi begs the lightning not to appear, begging from the depths of his scarred soul to keep Rin safe, to not let her suffer the same fate again.

Lightning crackles, and his world turns white.

* * *

Minato is there when he wakes, gasping for air. They are in the field, lying in the shade of the tree.

“Hey, Kakashi. It’s Minato-sensei,” Minato says quickly, before Kakashi can stand up in panic. Kakashi nods shakily and sits back in Minato’s lap. The teen wraps his arms around Kakashi, pulling him close, chasing the horrors of the nightmare away.

Kakashi follows Minato’s breathing, slowly in, hold, slowly out, hold. He closes his eye, letting his breathing settle, still uneasy, but far from his nightmare.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Minato offers.  _ No, you wouldn’t understand.  _ How can he possibly talk about things that have never happened? Half-truths. Give him half-truths, nothing more.

“I keep seeing them die,” he answers. Before Minato can press for more, Kakashi continues, “Rin and Obito… and you. I know you’re all alive, but…” He inhales deeply, stops the panic from coming in again.

“Is it…” Minato hesitates.  _ Is it my father? _

“Sometimes,” Kakashi says, and that is entirely the truth. Decades on, and he keeps seeing the study, blood permanently staining the floor.

“Maybe you should—”

“No. I’m fine,” he cuts in, trying to convince himself as much as Minato. “I don’t need to see anyone. I’m a shinobi.”

It’s a stupid excuse, especially when Kakashi no longer feels the need to follow the shinobi rules. They’re utter bullshit, when Konoha’s very strength comes from it’s unmatchable camaraderie. But Minato doesn’t argue, though it’s obvious he cares dearly about Kakashi. He allows himself the small respite, sitting here with his loving sensei, fresh air whispering through him. 

The fire starts to burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another quick update,, who am I???  
> Hope you're enjoying, lovely people!  
> If you have anything you want to see in the future please leave a comment, I don't have an outline for this thing (ㆆᴗㆆ)  
> <3333


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the fic from Minato's perspective

Minato’s peaceful evening is slashed abruptly by a sense impending doom. His gut leads him to the bare, cold apartment of his equally cold student, Kakashi. The closer he gets, the larger the anxiety grows, a race of the heart, a dryness of the mouth; swirling, scary thoughts because the last time he felt this way Sakumo committed suicide and Kakashi found his father in a pool of blood.

The feelings are all too similar, launching Minato into a panicked, chakra-enhanced sprint for the last two blocks. He races through the thinning crowd, throwing hasty apologies as he knocks against civilians that send him offended glares. But Minato pays no heed, his mind only filled with terrified thoughts of Kakashi.  _ Get there quickly. Kakashi needs you. What if he’s _ —

Minato slips in through the open window, a stone of dread dropping in his stomach as a loud shatter comes from deeper within the apartment.

He enters the bathroom right as Kakashi releases a hysterical laugh and raises a shard of glass to his face. Minato reels in shock at the blood trickling down his student’s face in a thick, crimson river; he grieves at the empty expression of Kakashi he catches in the glass shard; his heart cries at Kakashi’s pain, the pain he refuses to let show, the pain Minato should have known was there.

Minato strikes forward, grasping Kakashi’s wrist and squeezing to make the shard crash to the ground, clacking against the tiles and cutting through the momentary silence.

“ _ No! _ ” Kakashi snarls, and Minato hisses as his wrist is gripped tightly, nails digging in. “Damn you! Let me die! Please!  _ Please, _ ” the words are choked out in a desperate whisper. Kakashi thrashes in his hold, but Minato holds strong, waits for the struggle to die down—to no avail. Minato flinches at the relentless hold on his arm and drops Kakashi.

He realises his mistake all too quickly as Kakashi’s hands move into rapid signs, chakra spiking high. Minato swears as fire erupts in an unrestrained flame, powered by wild, unchecked emotions. The fire reaches the sink and broken mirror, curling down to Kakashi’s hands, splaying wide as Kakashi shrieks. The burning red, blinds Minato, a luminous hell brought to life, a nightmare to be relived for years to come.

Minato sends out a water jutsu, extinguishing the flames with a gentle stream.  _ Keep calm for him.  _ Kakashi continues to cry, vengeful and teary eyed, but Minato ignores the fight and pulls Kakashi back into his embrace, ceasing the cries and bringing both of them to awareness.

“Oh, Kakashi,” he sighs, distraught despite every attempt to hide his fears from Kakashi. When Kakashi glances up at him, Minato can’t help his dark expression, full of grief, every emotion he feels inside laid bare. He feels defeated—though he prevented Kakashi from going any further with the glass and fire—and wrecked, exhausted at the sight of his bleeding, vulnerable student in his arms.

“Sensei?” Kakashi hovers a hand near his face. Minato watches the shame flood Kakashi’s eye as his student looks deeply at him.  _ Fuck, what are you thinking in that weird mind of yours, Kakashi? _

“I’m here. I’m not leaving, and neither are you,” Minato says in what he hopes is a soothing voice, but Kakashi doesn’t seem to be listening, shaking his head, looking far from the present.

“I don’t want to be here,” Kakashi implores quietly. “Let me die. Please let me die.”

Tears rise in his eyes, thoughts of  _ defeat, failure,  _ crossing his mind. Minato didn’t  _ pay attention,  _ and now he’s paying the consequences for his negligence. A sharp inhale from Kakashi and Minato allows the tears to slide down his cheeks.  _ I’m sorry for failing you, Kakashi.  _ Minato’s heart is as shattered as the mirror on the floor, mind overrun by the ruin of his student and the blood running to his hands.

_ Snap out of it,  _ Minato berates himself, harshly turning away from his own pain.  _ Kakashi needs medical attention. _

“I refuse to,” Minato vows firmly. “I’m going to help you, Kakashi. You’ll be fine soon.”

_ “I’m sorry,”  _ Kakashi whispers, voice hoarse. Minato feels panic cross over him in a flood as Kakashi’s eye slides shut and does not open again.

* * *

A few days later, and the conflict of his mind had only grown stronger. Another breakdown in the hospital upon Kakashi’s awakening had worsened Minato’s thoughts and anxiety about his student. His worry had never reached this high before.  _ Because I deserve it,  _ Kakashi had said. Where had Minato gone wrong to allow those terrifying thoughts to build up to breaking point in Kakashi’s mind without release or healing or intervention?

Stress was taking away his sleep, added to by Kakashi’s relocation to his apartment and his own troubled sleep that led to him sleeping in Minato’s bed every night. Minato woke too many times to whimpers and tears and muttered words that he couldn’t comprehend.

And now, after Kakashi’s stubbornness in the morning, the pair are heading out for a walk. Minato still feels astounded at his insistence to get right back into training, even though he’s always known how determined and set Kakashi is in his training and career as a shinobi.

They set off not long after dawn, the sun floating upon the horizon in an orange sea. The air is foggy and cold, a far contrast from the warmth of the apartment, though Kakashi seems to be embracing it rather than shying from it as Minato is, shoulders shivering and teeth clattering.

Minato leads them past their training ground, all the while standing firmly at Kakashi’s shoulder and keeping his senses alert. But Kakashi’s wavering doesn’t go unnoticed, steps pulled towards the training ground.

“Kakashi?” Minato asks softly, receiving no response. He tries again, “Oi, Kakashi, what’s wrong,” but his whispers again go ignored. 

At Kakashi’s snapping gaze—to a shady spot under a tree, to the three posts at the centre of the field—Minato rubs at his back, “Are you alright, Kakashi? Please answer me, it’s okay, I’m here.” 

“What?” Kakashi asks. Minato’s hand drops from his back. His tone is distant, not addressing Minato; perhaps to someone not there? That idea is solidified as Kakashi hurries onto the grass towards the wooden posts, eye seemingly trained on a singular spot—the way anyone would when the person they wish to speak with catches their eye.

Kakashi halts at the posts, throwing his hands up to his face, and Minato is running, surprise kicking a stumble in his steps. Kakashi keens in agony— _ grieving,  _ Minato recognises, having felt just the same mere nights ago—and drops his hands, inspecting them in sudden silence.

“Kakashi!” Minato calls desperately following the thud of wood as Kakashi hurls a fist at the post. He drops beside Kakashi as he explodes into tears and begins to heave.

Minato grimaces, concern hammering a beat in his chest, and returns his hand to Kakashi’s back.

“Come on, Kakashi. In and out,” Minato says, tone firm, hoping the command will get his student to focus. The response isn’t as smooth as Minato expects, the heaving dying down but the distraction remaining.  _ Come back to me, Kakashi. Where are you? _

“Can you walk?” Minato asks, letting worry drip in his voice, far from his previous command. When Kakashi shakes his head, Minato feels a surge of steel in his stomach—to protect. He gathers the child in his arms, keeping him close and pouring a gentle stream of chakra into him. Minato kneels down in the shade of the tree, Kakashi still in his embrace, and settles against the hard trunk.

Minato brushes hair out of his face. “Get some rest,” he urges. Kakashi obliges him, head sinking heavily into his lap and eye shutting closed. The scene is the same, minus the blood and burns, but the feeling is the same; of defeat, of immense worry, of guilt and fear.

This whole thing is far from normal. Minato is not a fool. Something had to have occurred to leave Kakashi so wrecked, and he’s determined to uncover the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment your thoughts and suggestions <3


	5. Chapter 5

Two days later finds Kakashi and Minato at their training ground in the early hours of the morning, as Minato had promised. Minato had almost pushed training back a week like he originally intended, especially after Kakashi’s episode on their walk. Kakashi’s very persistent, very annoying nagging the day before had reluctantly convinced Minato to allow Kakashi back at training this morning, with the promise that Kakashi would refrain from using his hands too much — he had injured them further through his punches.

Before setting out to training, Kakashi had spent ten minutes seated, very still, as Minato undressed his hands and wrapped them gently in thinner bandages. The wounds were healing well, of course, under the routine medical appointments with a medic nin at the hospital — that Kakashi habitually complains about. Now, only blisters remained, the burns beneath slowly healing and starting to form vicious scars.

Knowing that he will see Obito and Rin soon has Kakashi struggling to retain his composure. He wants to block his emotions out like he used to, but it seems his return to the past has triggered something raw in him, something he doesn’t understand and something he has no hopes of controlling.

What will he see when his teammates arrive? Will he see them as they are now in this reality, alive? Or will he fail to look past his haunted memories and instead see their dead and bleeding bodies? Kakashi wants to escape before any bad outcome can come into fruition.  _ Avoidant behaviour,  _ he thinks despondently. A favourite of his, to avoid everything.

If he leaves now Minato will not hesitate to ban Kakashi from training for a week, or indefinitely, if Minato can have his way.

Kakashi brushes a hand over the bandages on his head. At Minato’s subtle appraisal, he drops his hand and turns his back to his sensei. His hands feel icky beneath their bandages. The wind cut into him, forcing him to shiver. Kakashi pretends he can’t feel it, considers it ominous, and ominous is the last thing he can handle.

“It isn’t too late to change your mind,” Minato says softly. Kakashi shakes his head. He  _ has  _ to do this.

“Minato-sensei! Kakashi-kun!”

Rin’s presence enters his vicinity but Kakashi refuses to look just yet. He needs to compose himself. He can’t have his emotions written on his face; Rin is too perceptive for that. She will notice and he has little doubt she will say something.

“Good morning, Rin-chan,” Minato greets. “How was your time off?”  _ Time off because of my incompetence. _

“It was boring! I missed being with the team,” she answers.  _ Missed. Missed them. Missed me?  _ But Kakashi has never been anything more than a jerk to his teammates.  _ I can change that.  _ A few days ago he wanted to die. Had planned to, after maiming himself.  _ I can change that.  _ Kakashi doesn’t understand himself. Why are there always two sides to everything? Why does it have to be so hard?

“Kakashi-kun?” Rin asks. Her voice sounds too close.

He turns around, stares unseeing at her. “Morning, Rin,” he says shakily.

“What happened to your eye?” She glances down, “And your hands?”

Kakashi blanches, begins to stammer, and in his anxiety he sees Rin clearly. She stares at him with worry, brows furrowed. Blood drips from her lips and Kakashi staggers back a step.

Minato keeps him upright with a hand on his back.

“A training accident,” Minato saves him from answering. Kakashi’s first instinct is to correct him. His stupid actions shouldn’t be buried, not when the consequences to his sensei were to great to abstain from guilt. But then he remembers that this is reality, Rin is alive, and she shouldn’t have to know the truth, shouldn’t be hurt because of him.

He pushes Minato away, trying to pass off an indifferent expression.

“Did I make it on time?” Obito shouts, striking a chord in him. Kakashi bites his lip, glad it's hidden beneath his mask. His heart pounds and he remembers that Obito had died twice in front of him. First in the rock fall, then again in the war. Will he see him die a third time? Kakashi longs to scream.

“Bakakashi! What the hell happened to  _ you?”  _ Obito leers at him. Kakashi avoids his persistent gaze. “Finally got what’s comin’ to ya?”  _ Not yet, unfortunately. _

“Obito, stop bickering,” Minato reprimands. “How was your time off?”

“It was fine,” Obito responds, though he puts little thought in it, refusing to drop the subject like the stubborn idiot he is. “What happened to Bakakashi?”

“Training accident,” Minato says. Before Obito can question him further, Minato begins to lead them through their warm-up and drills. He gives Kakashi other exercises to do that don’t involve his hands, and then later forbids him from sparring.

Kakashi would normally complain about the coddling, but this is not a normal situation and his heart still hammers, his hands still tingle and shake, and he can’t keep his goddamned anxiety off of his face.  _ They can see it all,  _ he convinces himself. Every little hint that something isn’t right with him lay bare to them. They’ll ask. They’ll ask and he won’t be able to control himself.

He observes his team, Minato giving pointers to Rin and Obito as the two spar. Every once in a while one of them will spare him a worried glance and look away just as quickly. He hates their scrutiny. He doesn’t deserve it.

Every nerve is on edge for a battle. His limbs are tensed and painful. His eye searches everything in the vicinity. He stretches his chakra to feel for oncoming danger, despite the only danger coming from himself and his stupid emotions. If he stays any longer he might break down.

Rocks tumble in his mind.

Blood drips over his hands.

The news of his sensei’s death rings in his ears.

He can’t do this. He can’t stay here any longer.

The last thing he sees before he shunshins away is Minato turning sharply to face him, eyes uncharacteristically wide.

And then darkness. Silence. A cold room with its blinds shut and its door closed.

Kakashi heaves for breath, standing in the middle of the room and staring at nothing, too focused on whatever is in his head to recognise his surroundings. His only thought had been to find safety. But he feels further from it than ever before.

What is sensei thinking? And his teammates. Are they worried? Do they care at all? They shouldn’t. They shouldn’t care about the fool that had killed them, whether they knew it or not.

Kakashi searches for his weapons pouch and panics to find it missing. Had Minato forbidden him from that this morning? Kakashi cannot remember.

His bandages soak through with blood. Rin’s blood. This is a nightmare. It has to be. He hopes it is. He doesn’t know what he will do if it isn’t.

Kakashi stumbles to the bathroom in a haze, glaring at the blood dripping from underneath the bandages around his head, the mirror proving this isn’t a dream, this is reality, and Kakashi can’t accept that.

He slams the bathroom door shut before he can spiral further and sprints to the kitchen sink. There is no mirror to insult him.

The blood won’t get off his hands. His mind is too damn loud he can’t distract himself from it, allowing himself to believe the blood is real.

When he unravels his bandages the blood is still there.  _ That’s not right,  _ he has the mind to think. If he removed the dirtied fiends then the dirtiness shouldn’t remain. That’s how the world works.

Kakashi truly screams in frustrated agony as the water runs over his hands and the blood still doesn’t disappear.

“I don’t understand,” he whispers aloud, as if to solidify his confusion. “ _ I don’t understand!” _

“Kakashi!” Minato exclaims, running into the kitchen. He shuts the tap off and holds Kakashi’s wrists, keeping his hands away from anything that might aggravate the wounds. Kakashi growls at him, focused only on the irremovable stains.

“Go away, sensei!” he sputters, trying as best he might to escape from his restraints. It reminds Kakashi of his first night in this fresh hell. The reminder doesn’t help. He fights harder, whimpering with the effort, eye scrunched closed, face twisted in agony.

“Please stop. Kakashi, you’re hurting yourself,” Minato pleads.

But Kakashi is as stubborn as Obito and he has only one thing he needs to do: clean the blood from his hands.

“Kakashi?” Is that Obito’s voice. No  _ Baka?  _ Obito, using his name? He opens his eye and searches desperately, wildly, for the source.

Obito stands at the entry to the kitchen, jaw slack with shock. His expression is no less than disbelieving. Kakashi freezes. Obito sees, he  _ sees. _

The self-loathing comes again, flooding his mind with the thoughts he has always carried. They scream at him to beg forgiveness, to kill himself, to stop being such a burden on his team. If he isn’t here they won’t die. That is the truth he settles on.

But the energy has drained from him, arms weak from fighting against Minato’s hold. He goes lax, crumpling to his knees. Sensei follows him, crying out for him.

Kakashi stares and stares at Obito, fearful of his reaction. He doesn’t want his pity. He deserves his anger. He doesn’t want concern, anything but concern.

“It wasn’t a training accident,” Obito states.

Minato sighs. “No, it wasn’t. Where’s Rin?”

“She went home like you asked.”

“And you?”

Obito blushes. “You looked really scared, sensei! And Kakashi’s been acting all weird and I wanted to know what was going on and I thought you might want some help—”

“Obito,” Minato cuts him off. He taps Kakashi’s shoulder. Kakashi flinches at the content. Everything is too loud and too much. He needs to lie down.

“Do you want Obito to leave while I clean you up?” Minato asks.

Kakashi thinks about it for a moment. But any change is too terrifying to allow and he mumbles, “He can stay.” Obito’s grin is strained but genuine.

“We can talk about this later. Or do you want to talk now?”

“Later,” Kakashi says frantically.

“Alright,” Minato says. “I’ll hold you to that. Obito, get the medical kit from the cupboard.” Kakashi assumes that Minato pointed to it.

Obito drops the kit beside Minato and sits next to it as directed. Minato warns Kakashi before every touch, slow and delicate. Though Kakashi appreciates the sensitivity, he can’t help but think that this is burdening, not just on his sensei but on Obito, too, who should not have seen this in the first place.

He struggles to hold back his cries at the pain in his hands as Minato attends to them. They sting and tingle and Kakashi hates the pain, curses himself for letting off that fire jutsu and simultaneously wishing he had done more. If he is dead he won’t have to deal with the pain.

“Thank you, Obito,” Minato says, exhausted. “As soon as I figure out what to do I’ll let you and Rin know about training.”

Obito grins at the praise. “Of course, sensei! It’s the least I could do. Get better soon, Bakakashi, we need to spar again. I’ll win next time, definitely!” Obito leaves them on the kitchen floor, footsteps racing out of the apartment.

“Sorry for worrying you,” Kakashi says once they are left in silence. Minato sighs.

“You shouldn’t have to apologise, Kashi. I’ll always be here to help, you know that.”  _ Not always. Not when you died. _

Kakashi doesn’t want to remember the years after Minato and Kushina died, when he had thrown himself into his ANBU missions and had been consumed by guilt and anguish. Those memories had been shut away for a reason.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises again.

“Alright,” Minato appeases him. “Can you tell me what happened?”

In the security of Minato’s embrace, his lively warmth and calming presence, Kakashi almost reveals everything. The time travel, how he killed his teammates, how Minato and Kushina died, the war…  _ Almost. _

“Were you seeing things again?” Minato shocks him out of his thoughts. “Two days ago, you saw people on the training field, right? Did it happen again today?”

“Yes,” Kakashi says, settling for the half-truth Minato presented him with.

“I wish you could open up to me,” Minato frowns.

“One day,” Kakashi says, truthful this time. One day he would tell them. One day he would subject himself to the mortifying fear of their rejection, of their hate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good evening,  
> i'm alive.  
> please comment some ideas  
> i'm desperate  
> :)


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